


A Dish Best Served Cold

by JudasComplex



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Blackmail, F/M, I almost didn't post this, Kidnapping, M/M, Payback, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Torture, better safe than sorry, might be Explicit, might be Mature, the name of the document on my computer is "Adachi is a terrible person", you are all forewarned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 13,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudasComplex/pseuds/JudasComplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naoto goes missing.<br/>There's been a breakout at the prison.<br/>Kanji knows exactly what's happening...but not how to fix it.<br/>And the clock is ticking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is so entirely outside of my personal canon for all these characters it's not even funny. I wrote this probably over a year ago and have been waffling on posting it for so long, but I wanted to put something up to show I'm not dead. I'm awful for even coming up with this.
> 
> I'm truly not sure if it should be Mature or Explicit, but I'm erring on the side of caution for this one because it makes me squirm when I re-read it. Augh.

_November 1, Thursday_

It's cold, and she's regretting not bringing her hat. She hasn't worn it much since the ski trip earlier in the year, but it would be nice now, with the wind whipping her hair around and biting at her ears. Everything feels colder now, with the change in uniform. At least her petition to keep the pants had held. If she'd had to wear a skirt as well... She shivers again.

She's almost home. It'll be warm there.

...Was that a voice? She stops, listens. Yes, someone distinctly calling for help. She turns down the side street, winding her way through the buildings until she finds the voice. It's a person, crumpled on the ground—male from the looks of how they're dressed, but she knows she's not the best judge of that—and they're not moving. She can see their chest rising and falling, so she knows they're alive...and it has to be the person who called out. There's no one else out here.

“Excuse me?” She leans over them. “Excuse me, I heard you call. Can I be of some assistance?” The person coughs, wheezing as they breathe in. She crouches to get a better vantage point. “Are you hurt? How can I help?”

“Oh, I can think of a number of ways.” The voice is suddenly clear—and terrifyingly familiar. She falls back, grabbing for a gun she no longer carries—reaching for a Persona she can no longer access—scrambling away as the man looks up, dark hair tousled and black eyes gleaming and that grin she'd only seen in her nightmares for so long and she can't move fast enough—

And then he's on top of her, moving faster than she'd ever seen him, roughly grabbing at her arm and pushing her to the ground, face against the freezing pavement. He grabs her wrists, jerking them behind her back and lashing them together with hard plastic ties, pulled too tight and she cries out in protest only to be met with laughter—and it sounds like last December all over again and her heart pounds in her chest and she can barely breathe, and he just straddles her hips, leaning to hiss in her ear as she fights back tears.

“It's about time someone taught you how to act, Shirogane.”


	2. Chapter 2

_November 2, Friday_

She's not in class. He frowns. It's not like Naoto to miss class, particularly without notice. They'd parted in good company the day before, with a wave and a “see you tomorrow” like always, so had she gotten sick? He's asked the few first years he knows, and no one's seen her.  
  
He pulls out his phone to send her a message: _Hey, you sick or something? Do you need anything? Are you okay?_

One class period goes by...a second... By the third, he's worried. This has gone entirely into unknown territory. She never ignores text messages. Even when he knows she's busy, she's responded within a half hour. It's been almost half the day now.

At lunch time, he jogs up to the roof, where the rest of his friends usually eat lunch. “Yo. Any of you seen Naoto today?”

No one has. _Maybe she's asleep_ , they guess. _Maybe her phone died. I wouldn't worry, Kanji._

But he is worrying. This isn't normal, and the last time Naoto vanished and it wasn't normal, she was in the TV. No one else is concerned. _We stopped all that, remember? She's not going to just go getting herself in trouble. Just because you're obsessed doesn't mean you have to freak out._ He growls, and blows them off. Goes back to class. Convinces himself that if there _is_ nothing wrong, she'd be furious that he skipped classes to look for her when nothing was wrong.

But his phone is still suspiciously quiet when he leaves school, and he can't keep his heart from racing.

He goes to her house. He's only ever seen it from a distance before, from times he'd walked her back home after one thing or another, but the fear is minimal as he knocks on the door. A man in a suit answers; this must be the secretary she's talked about. “Is Naoto home?”

The man's expression changes, his voice low. _No. She hasn't been home since before school yesterday. We were hoping her friends might know._

His heart drops into his shoes. It's the abductions all over again. He stammers questions about strange people and delivery trucks and did she seem off at all? But the secretary doesn't have any good answers, saying that nothing was out of the ordinary at all until she didn't come home from school. He thanks the man and walks away, the chill of the weather incomparable to the ice in his blood.

There has to be an answer. The detective is missing. He needs to be the detective now.

He heads for the shopping district, asking around until he's run out of people he doesn't recognize. It's almost dinnertime when he heads back up to one of the smaller stores near Konishi Liquors to grab an evening paper for his mother. The headline under the fold catches his eye.

There's been an escape from the prison—and it's a name he knows all too well.

It can't be a coincidence.

But there aren't any clues this time around. No TV world, no Midnight Channel, no nothing to point him in the right direction. For once, he knows exactly what's happening and what he needs to do—and he has no idea how to do it. Cursing, he storms back home, ignoring calls from his classmate in the liquor store, asking what's wrong and did he ever find her?

He throws the paper on the kitchen table. His mother says there's mail for him in his room, and dinner in the kitchen. “I'm not hungry.” He storms to his room, blind with rage, and grabs the envelopes. None of them interest him. None of them can help him. None—

And he sees one, with just his name on a plain envelope and when he flips it over there's no return name and suddenly he's having flashbacks to afternoons at Junes and figuring out where the mystery notes had come from and he tears open the envelope, desperate for a clue.

_you want her back? come get her. you have one week. after that, you better hope she can swim._

His hands clench, his breath catches in his throat. _Swim?_ There's only so many places that could be. The river comes to mind first. _Too public._ He can't hold a hostage there.

 _But..._ There was one place he could hide out. It was big enough, and this time of the year, no one was going to go to the beach.

He wants to leave right then. His mother insists he stay, because it's almost dark and didn't he hear there's an escaped convict on the loose? His heart screams to leave anyway. His mind says she'd be mad if he risked himself.

He stays.

But he's leaving first thing in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

She's freezing. The bathhouse at the beach is no place to be in the winter, especially not half-dressed. Her jacket has been gone since he caught her, her shirt torn—not quite in half, but close—and who knew where her pants had gone. Her throat is hoarse from screaming, and though he loves taunting her by saying no one will hear, she doesn't care. She cries and she screams and she begs him to let her go, and he laughs at her and shoves his hand in her shirt and fondles her breasts with ice cold hands, pinching at the nipples until they throb, and if she's lucky he'll only reach his hand down between her legs, those same cold fingers plunging deep into her as she shrieks, unwelcome attention bringing unwanted reactions, her body betraying her and him taking it for pleasure.

More often, that leads to her lying face down on the cold floor, knees pushed to the sides, one arm holding him up with the hand turned to grab a breast, and the other hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her head back painfully as he thrusts into her again and again, laughing that awful cackle until his voice finally hitches and his hand digs into her flesh and she can feel him release inside her and it makes her sick each and every time, and she doesn't know how many times that's been anymore. She's not sure how many days it's been anymore.

For a while, she thinks someone will come. Someone will find her. But the detective in her mind knows better. There are no clues, no trail to follow. She walked into an abandoned alley, not telling anyone where she'd gone, not leaving any indication that she wouldn't return. What would anyone think? Would the others be suspicious?

Does anyone know _he_ 's escaped?

Silently, she begs for the one person she believes won't accept vague answers. She doesn't understand the delinquent-turned-tailor (or perhaps it's the other way around) but she knows he has a certain interest in her, and if his actions in the TV world from last year are to believed, he'll come looking. It's the only thing she can hope for. Even if no one else thinks there's a problem, he's the one who will come looking for her.

She just hopes he figures out where to look.

Her captor returns from wherever he was and crouches in front of her. “How's my pet?”

She spits at him.

When he changes where he penetrates her, she wishes she was surprised.

The pain reminds her she's not dead yet.


	4. Chapter 4

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

He's never been so glad to have spent his savings on a scooter.

That being said, even if he'd still just had his bike, he would have gotten on it and headed straight for Shichiri regardless. If the bastard was going to taunt him, he'd rise to it—but he'd keep his head. He'd focus his anger and fear and panic, and direct it into finding a way to kill this bastard once and for all.

A week. It wasn't going to take a week. He outweighed the asshole. All he had to do is get one good move on him and he'd break the bastard in half.

Once at the beach, it's just a matter of finding them. He combs the beach, looking in every building he can find, keeping silent because if there's any chance he can sneak up on them, he might just get an advantage—

And that's when he hears the scream.

That piercing, shriek of a scream he's only heard once before, in the fight against Izanami as black hands pulled a struggling body down into nothingness.

He takes off running, willing her to keep screaming so he can find her, and then he'll kill the one who's making her scream, and as if she can hear him she does keep screaming, the sounds driving his feet faster and his pulse harder and he can't feel anything anymore, just the need to _be there right now_ and finally he sees the tiny bathhouse shack on the far side of the beach. An abandoned one, one that never got updated and they haven't gotten around to demolishing.

She sounds like she's in so much pain. He bites back the snarl.

He creeps up to the building, looking for the best way to sneak in. But now he can hear the bastard.

“You learning yet, you little bitch?” The voice is off, like he's moving as he speaks. _That can't be what I think it is._ “I fucking own you. And when you piss me off...”

A beat, and then a pained whine and his throat closes up.

“So...fucking...tight...” Now the voice is hitching even more, and from the groan that follows...

His vision goes red. _To hell with sneaking in. I'm gonna kill him with my bare hands._ He finds the closest door and slams his fists into it, under the pretense of knocking but really hoping he'd just break the damn thing down.

He can hear her sobbing. _I'm going to fucking kill him._

“Well, well, well. I didn't think you'd find us so soon,” he hears through the door. “Maybe you're smarter than you look.”


	5. Chapter 5

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

There's only one person who would knock like that. _Oh God, did you actually answer a prayer for me?_ He slides off and out of her, and she can't help the sobs that tumble out of her chest. She's sure she's bleeding. She's going to need a hospital or she'll get an infection.

Grabbing a rag he's kept around since they got here, he wipes himself off and tosses it back into a corner, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up. You'd never know what just happened. ...As long as you didn't look at her. “Well, well, well. I didn't think you'd find us so soon.” _He knew...?_ Of course he knew. He would have needed some kind of clue to exist for the game to work. Just kidnapping her wouldn't do anything if no one was going to save her. “Maybe you're not as dumb as you look.”

_Oh God, please..._

“Shut the fuck up, Adachi. Don't mess with me.” Her heart leaps in her chest. _I was right!_ She's never been so happy to hear that voice—any voice—in her life.

She tries to say his name, but the word comes out in a gurgle of consonants and tears, and her captor turns on his heel, eyes alight. He doesn't say a word, but advances on her and she's begging again, _no, no, no_ and his hand is at her throat, pulling her up to sit, her body howling in pain because she can't sit, not after what just happened, and he wraps the ropes around her wrists again and cinches them down so she can't move.

She fought, before. He hurt more back then.

The banging at the door picks up again. “Dammit, I am gonna break this door down if you don't open it!”

“Geez, gimme a second, will ya? You waited all this time, I'd think you can wait another minute or two.” His voice is smooth and slimy, just as sure and cocky as he was when they fought him, just as wretched as when he'd taunted them, thrown Shadow after Shadow at them, when she'd had to lean on someone else just to stand upright and what she wouldn't give to lean on him again and he's _just on the other side of the door_ and she's afraid to make a sound because she just wants to see him and if she says anything her captor won't open the door, he'll just come back and do it all over again and she's in so much pain...

The door opens and he's through the entryway, one hand on her captor's throat as he pushes the bastard against the wall, black hair in his eyes, glasses nowhere to be seen, and though she's still adjusting to the change in look it doesn't matter because it's him and maybe she'll make it out of all this alive.

“You son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you.”

“Thought you weren't a killer, Tatsumi.” He can still speak, though his voice is rough, which means Kanji isn't holding him nearly tight enough. “Isn't that why Namatame got let off? Aren't you kids too _good_ for that shit? You could have just left me to die with the Shadows like I wanted, but no. You let me go to prison. And now it's your own damn fault.”

She sees Kanji's hand tighten on his neck, and Adachi coughs. “That was then,” he responds, and Kanji's voice is fire and ice and she can't help but try to say his name again and it's still nothing that sounds like her, but it gets his attention and he looks over to where she's tied up and she can see the horror in his eyes. Shock, disgust, anger, horror—all blazing behind those grey eyes and suddenly she can't look at him because she knows what he must see. Torn and broken, bloody and bruised, wet with tears and blood and traces of Adachi all over her. She's a disaster.

Adachi takes the moment and wrenches Kanji's wrist, making the younger of the two howl in pain, and lash out with his other hand. Adachi ducks and plunges the heel of his palm into Kanji's chest, and Kanji doubles over, the breath pushed out of him. He doesn't stop, to his credit, lashing out and catching the criminal by surprise. Kanji gets a handful of shirt and pulls it down, knocking Adachi off his feet and into the floor. Kanji has to let go of Adachi's shirt to stand over the man, but that's long enough for the older man to bring one leg up and kick it up between Kanji's legs, and the younger man buckles, almost falling on Adachi but he slides out of the way just in time to clamber to his feet and wrap an arm around Kanji's neck in a headlock.

Kanji jerks forward, just enough to get one foot flat on the floor and then send them both flying into the wall, and Adachi snarls as his head smacks against the wood. Kanji gets one hand up to claw at Adachi's face but the former detective ignores him, punching Kanji in the temple. Kanji falters, and she can see his eyes cross for a moment. Adachi hits him again, and this time she forces the words to come out.

“No...stop hurting him...”

They both stop, looking over at her and Kanji's eyes are unfocused but trying so hard to watch her and Adachi just looks evil, but he turns Kanji to face her, the younger man on his knees and the older hissing in his ear and she cringes for him because she knows what that feels like all too well. “See your precious detective now? Put up a good fight for a little while. Too bad she didn't fight more. I like 'em feisty.”

Kanji's breath is coming in growls and he goes to reach for Adachi again and the man tightens his grip. “Bastard...” is all Kanji can manage.

“Ah ah ah, you see, I can hit you again, and I know exactly how much damage I can cause and if I kill you now, both of us will lose.” She can see the confusion flicker on her classmate's face. “You see, if you die, then you don't get to save your little whore girlfriend...and I don't get to play with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

His patience snaps, unable to listen to the asshole's drivel anymore. Risking death or not, he's going to rip this bastard's throat out and shove it so far up his ass it'll come back out his mouth. He roars, a sound he didn't even know he could make but it's all he can manage when he thinks about how desperate and broken Naoto looks _what has he done to her_ and he drags them both to their feet and he doesn't care that he can't breathe, he just reaches back and pulls at that bastard's hair and he can hear him growl and that has to mean that he's hurting him and he just pulls harder

but then his vision goes black and his ears are ringing and he can feel his knees hit the floor again and Naoto is screaming again but he can't move, can't breathe, can't see can't hear right. His body is moving and he can't tell if he's moving or if he's being moved. Something cold wraps around his wrist and his arm won't go down anymore, and he wants to fight but his arm isn't moving when he tells it to, and then the other arm is the same way and suddenly everything spins out from under him and the world is dark.

He doesn't know how much later it is when he comes back around, but his wrists are aching and when his vision clears he can see he's been handcuffed to a pair of pipes and held in place. His head is throbbing and his ears are still ringing a little, but he can make out the quiet gasping sobs from across the room and he looks over, seeing Naoto curled in on herself, sobbing into her knees.

His chest aches. “Naoto.” His voice doesn't sound much better than hers had.

Her head snaps up, looking up at him and his stomach twists all over again, just like any time she looks at him but this time he knows it's so much worse because now no one knows where either of them are. “Kanji.” Her voice is a whisper, but he can hear it, and for once it hurts to hear her drop the honorific.

“I'm gonna get us out.” He knows she doesn't believe him, he can see it in her eyes, but he tries to give her whatever strength he has left by the look in his own. “I dunno how, but I'm gonna do it. I'll get us both out of here.”

She watches him, and coughs on a sob, and lowers her head.

The door opens and closes a moment later, and the murdering bastard is back, the last bites of a steak skewer in his hand, like nothing is out of the ordinary at all, like he hasn't just kidnapped two people and chained them up and... He can't finish the line of thought as Kanji looks back at Naoto and can guess exactly what's happened. He can smell the meat and his stomach protests and he wonders how long he's been here.

Has Naoto eaten since she got here?

“Oh good, you're awake. Was almost afraid I'd hit you too hard back there.” That insidious grin seeps into his words, and Kanji tugs at the cuffs, making them clank against the pipes. “Ah ah, we can't have that now.” The man stands in front of him, pulling the last bit of steak into his mouth and tossing the wooden skewer away. “You know, I wasn't going to go after you.” His head tilts and Kanji didn't think he could hate Adachi more but the anger just keeps building. “I was just going to pick off the girls, one by one. They're really more my type, but...then I got to thinking.” He sets a hand against Kanji's chest, and he wants nothing more than to slam his knee into the asshole's crotch but something tells him that it's not the wisest idea, especially with both of them bound in one way or another, but damn if the urge isn't there.

“You actually think sometimes?” Kanji spits at the man.

Adachi sneers, but doesn't lash out—instead pretending the boy hadn't spoken. “It would be so much more...fun, to bring you out here, and make you watch.” Kanji's blood goes cold. _Watch...?_ “See, I'm not a fool. I see the way you look at her. And if I'm going to break you...it's going to be through her.”

Now Naoto reflects the horror he's feeling, eyes wide, feet searching for purchase on the floor as she tries to become one with the wall. “No—no, Adachi, no please...”

He hates hearing her beg, because it twists her voice into something he never wanted to hear from her, but Adachi just smiles and steps back from Kanji, only turning once he's next to Naoto and kneels down next to her. “And I think your little boyfriend here deserves a show. After all...he should know what he's getting, if he still wants you after this.”

Kanji's stomach wrenches and he swallows back bile. _Naoto..._


	7. Chapter 7

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

She can't help the desperate pleas falling from her lips, _no no no please no_ , because being humiliated and defiled alone is one thing but she can't bear to have Kanji see this. Can't bear to have...whatever they shared tarnished by Adachi's slime.

Kanji had always seemed so fond of her. Even before they'd truly known each other, he was polite and bashful, even if he blustered whenever someone called him on it. She'd never quite known how to respond. She was fond of him, but emotions...were difficult. She'd assumed she'd find the answer in time.

Whatever her answer was, it involved not letting him see this.

But Adachi doesn't care what she's thinking or what she'd been hoping and he shoves two fingers in her mouth and she has to resist biting down on them. “Suck, bitch.” And with tears running down her cheeks, she does.

She can hear Kanji's strangled reaction and she closes her eyes. Apparently Kanji did the same thing, because Adachi's voice is sharp and for once, not at her. “Don't be such a priss, Tatsumi. I want you to watch this.”

“I don't gotta watch anything.” Adachi's fingers leave her mouth and her eyes shoot open as he marches over to Kanji and grabs at his crotch—and that gets Kanji's eyes open.

“You will watch, or I will cut off your eyelids off and fuck you first, and you will have to watch her cringe in horror because she does what she's told, and if I say watch...she watches. Don't you.” Adachi looks back at her, and her eyes watch Kanji's as Adachi grinds the heel of his palm against Kanji—and he winces, arms tugging at the chains instinctively, and her eyes don't leave his though she wants so much to look away, but they watch each other, sharing the pain the only way they can.

“Good.” Adachi steps back again and stares down Kanji. “Now watch.” He looks at her. “Watch him.”

She keeps her eyes on his, and she can see the apology in his eyes and all she can do is offer tears in return.

“You know how this starts.” Adachi unties her wrists and stands in front of her, and she can just see Kanji past his hip, and she doesn't need to look as her hands move on their own to his waist, his belt, his zipper. She can see in Kanji's eyes that he wants her to fight, he wants her to run, but she knows she can't now because the pain of the last time she fought is still sending sparks of pain through her body.

She pulls Adachi's half-formed erection—he always seems to be half ready for this—out of his pants and runs her fingers over the tip, wrapping her hand around it to stroke three, four times before replacing her hand with her mouth. Adachi shifts, moving to the side and though her eyes are closed now she knows he's moved so that Kanji can see her sucking him off, and she can hear the basso growl in his chest but she doesn't stop. This is mindless, this is familiar. This is the beginning of this nightmare. His fingers wrap in her hair, pulling her roughly toward him, making her choke and she can feel him shudder still at every gag and her throat almost doesn't hurt anymore as he rams himself into her.

A moment passes. “Stand up.” His hand loosens and she pulls back, absently licking at her lower lip, and her eyes find Kanji again. His jaw is set, his grey eyes firmly on her, whole body shaking with the effort of keeping still. Adachi's hand rests on her chin, fingers tucked under, too soft. “I wonder. Should I put you up against the wall, or face on the floor, like usual?” She swallows, not answering. “Mm. I guess you won't be able to watch him if your face is in the dirt. Against the wall it is.”

There's blood on Kanji's lips. He's biting his tongue, she knows it. And all she can do is stare at him with tears in her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

The feeling of his teeth digging into his tongue is the only thing keeping him from screaming at Adachi. She moves too smoothly, with too much practice. _How many times have you done this to her?_ She doesn't fight anymore and it's like she's given up to all of this and he'd die a thousand times over if he could just take that hollow pain out of her eyes.

“Back to the wall, pet.” Naoto lets her shoulders hit the wall, her eyes still on Kanji, tears spilling onto her cheeks. His heart screams in his chest. Adachi reaches down, tugs her underwear down to her ankles, then to the floor. There's a flicker in her eyes; this is a change. He leans in, presses his lips to the place where her jaw met her neck, and pushes two fingers deep into her. Her eyes flutter, and he knows she wants to close them, but she manages to keep watching him as Adachi thrusts his hand up and down, then in and presses his thumb against her and she whimpers, her hips moving in a jerk and Kanji's going to take the tip of his tongue off if he's not careful.

Adachi just laughs. “Beg me.”

_Don't, Naoto, please don't, please please don't..._

“Please,” she whispers, and Kanji can feel his heart break.

“Didn't catch that.” His thumb digs in and she whines, and this time it's pain in her voice and his heart breaks again.

“Please, Adachi.” Louder, with tears in the back of her throat.

“That's how I like to hear you.” One hand shifts his pants, and then he lifts her at the waist, her hands finding his shoulders to steady her as he shifts to pull up her knees, and he thrusts into her with a wet sound that grates on Kanji's ears and makes the bile rise up in his throat again. His vision blurs, but he can still see Naoto close her eyes, just for a moment, letting a sob shake her chest as fresh tears kept falling.

She is silent as he fucks her, leaving only Adachi's grunts and Kanji's heart pounding in his ears. It's a lifetime before the convict groans, pushing into Naoto and shuddering, and Kanji tries to breathe again. He lets Naoto drop to the floor, her knees buckling as she crumples into a pile. Adachi steps over, finding a rag on the floor to clean himself with, then tosses it back where he found it as he zips himself back in. And then the smile is back on Kanji, and the younger man knows just how much joy the convict takes in knowing how much he's hurt Kanji.

Taking only a moment to bind Naoto back to the floor, Adachi waves to them. “I'll let you two chat. I've got things to take care of.” And with that he's gone—and Naoto finally breaks down.


	9. Chapter 9

_November 3, Saturday – Cultural Day_

It's the last straw. She can't take it anymore, and as soon as Adachi leaves, she feels the wall she's so carefully built over how ever long he's had her shatter and she sobs into the floor, feeling more dirty and used than with any other trick.

It's his eyes that did her in. Watching his eyes, staring at her, desperate to see her fight and knowing that it wouldn't happen...seeing the pain she wouldn't show reflected in them.

She hears him spit, and though she can't see it, she can feel the spatter of blood hit the floor. She can't feel herself anymore. She knows the fight is done—there's no way they can get out; it's just going to be like this day after day, and then maybe Adachi will get bored and play with Kanji and make her watch, and she knows that will be so much worse because Kanji will fight until all his bones are broken and still Adachi won't let up.

She's going to be sick, but nothing is in her stomach to heave up. She doesn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Water has been a rare commodity.

“Naoto.” Her sobs come harder at his voice, trying so hard to hide how much he's hurting. “Naoto, look at me.”

“I can't,” she manages to force out before she gags on her tears. “After...after...”

“Naoto.” His tone doesn't change. “I...I don't blame you. This ain't your fault.”

“I made a rookie mistake.” She wraps her arms over her head, tugging it down toward her knees. “I went off into an alley, unarmed, no backup, chasing after someone calling for help.”

“Any of us woulda done the same thing.”

“I should have known better.”

“Hey.” Now he's putting a level of force behind his voice that makes her flinch, but she finally raises tear-blurry eyes toward him. “This. Ain't. Your. Fault. An' I'm standin' by what I said. We're gonna get out of here.”

“Kanji, I am so sorry.” Her voice breaks and she tries to pull herself into a sitting position.

“Ain't got nothin' to apologize for. He's the one doin' this, an' he's the one we're gonna make pay.” She can't figure out how he's keeping his voice so level. He just watched his classmate—dare she really think it, his _friend—_ be forced to...and then be... Her body convulses just from the memory. She can still feel him in her.

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I'm sorry he caught you too.” She can't stop apologizing. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't be here—he'd still be fine at home, not shackled to a wall, not groped by a convict, not forced to watch...

“Naoto.” She blinks a few times, forcing her eyes to clear and focus. “Only thing to be apologized for is that I din't get here yesterday like I should have.” But that sentence makes her vision blur again. She tries to say something but the words are lost in her throat. Kanji shakes his head. “Try again?”

“You're...too good to me.”

Finally— _finally—_ it's a moment of normalcy in this world of chaos as Kanji's cheeks flush red and he looks away for a moment. “Don' be dumb. You're...” His voice fails him, and their eyes meet again. “I'd put myself in your shoes thousand times over if it meant this din't happen to you.” She can't speak, just watching his face as he fights with the words. “Hell of a time for you t'find out how I feel 'bout you.”

She hates herself for asking. “Still?”

The sadness on his face is rewritten with anger and he tugs on his cuffs. “Damn right, still! You think I'm gonna let what some asshole did to you change anything? Your Shadow didn't change nothin'; you bein' a guy didn't change nothin'! There ain't nothin' that bastard can do that'll be any different. I...” His voice catches and she knows what he was going to say and she can't decide if it will hurt more to hear it now, or wait to hear it later.

“Kanji.” She can't hear it now. “Tell me when you've gotten us out.” She gives him her confidence, what's left of it, that he can do as he said he will.

And that shred of confidence is enough, because she sees the resolve set like metal in his eyes and he nods.


	10. Chapter 10

_November 3, Saturday – Culture Day_

He doesn't know if he'll have the confidence to say any of that again, but she trusts him to get them out—and he will, no matter what it takes. He'll get her safe.

He'll get _her_ safe.

He knows what he has to do...and he can't say a word, because he knows she won't like it.

_\-- > November ???_

He's lost track of the days. They haven't seen Adachi since he tied Kanji up, and he can feel the dehydration spinning in his head. The dry November air is taking more out of him than he'd expected. Naoto, for her part, seems to be less affected. She's been here longer, he has to remind himself. Maybe she's used to it.

That floods him with rage—but he has to keep calm.

They don't talk much, anymore. They don't want to talk about anything serious, because Naoto turns it down, saying that it's a conversation for when they get out. But anything more trivial isn't worth the effort it would take to speak. What will he talk about? School work? Their friends—noticeably still absent, despite two of them now going missing, and likely missing classes by now? It rains briefly, and Kanji attempts a halfhearted joke about the Midnight Channel.

Naoto's lips twitch into a small smile, but she doesn't respond. They don't speak again after that.

When finally the door opens again and he can hear footsteps, Kanji bites down on the jolt of adrenaline it gives him, trying to emulate Naoto's passiveness. He needs to be calm, docile. It's the only way the plan will work.

In spite of the brief moment of hope, it's still Adachi who walks through the door, but he's carrying something he didn't have when he left. Kanji keeps his head down. Something strikes Naoto and she makes a soft sound but otherwise stays silent. And then the convict is in front of him.

“No tough words this time?” Adachi leans down to peer at Kanji's face, and he averts his eyes. “Aw, don't tell me you're giving up already? And I was going to have such fun breaking you.” The convict waves a bottle of water in Kanji's line of vision, and he can't help his eyes following it. “You want it?” Kanji swallows on instinct. “Here.” Adachi unscrews the cap and shoves the mouth of the bottle against Kanji's lips. “Hold on to it.” He has just enough time to bite down onto the plastic when Adachi takes his hand away, leaving Kanji to hold the bottle.

For Naoto, however, he simply unties one of her hands, then leans against a far wall. She reaches for the bottle he tossed at her, unscrews it single-handed, and sips at the water. Adachi cracks his neck. “Man, if you two are gonna be so boring, I'm going to have to find out some other way to have fun. I can't believe you snapped so soon, Tatsumi.”

Kanji's bottle is empty, and he flicks his head to toss it off to the side. He doesn't look over at the convict, instead staring at his shoes.

Adachi isn't buying it. He comes over and grabs Kanji's chin, forcing the boy's head up. “What the hell is your game, kid? One little go at your girlfriend and you give up? No, you're too damn stubborn for that. So what? You jealous? You want a turn yourself?”

“Kanji, no...” Naoto's voice is soft, almost inaudible. He doesn't look at her. He stares at the ceiling.

Adachi let his chin go, but as Kanji was expecting, grabbed at him through the fabric of his pants. “I won't lie, it'd be pretty sweet to see the big, tough Kanji Tatsumi on his knees, sucking the cock of a convicted felon.” Kanji doesn't move.

“Kanji, _no,_ ” Naoto pleads again. But she can't reach him with only one free arm, only the edges of Adachi's slacks, and he kicks her hand away.

Adachi's hand moves, loosing Kanji's pants to come in closer contact, grip firm but motion slow, and Kanji bites back any reaction he has. He keeps his eyes on Naoto over Adachi's shoulder, and her eyes are still pleading with him. “You know,” the convict purrs in his ear, “it's a smart move, learning to cooperate. Because once I decide I'm done with you...I'm going to kill you. And I'm going to make her watch, because I know you'll run out of use first.”

“Adachi, no, please leave him alone.” Naoto is insistent.

“Shut up, bitch, or I'll make you suck him off instead.” He can't help it, _that_ his body reacts to. Adachi's smile widens, cruel in its intensity. “Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? That's what you've been thinking of since _he_ came into your world.” Kanji doesn't rise to the bait. Naoto's sex isn't the question here. “Seeing Naoto kneeling in front of you, face all flushed, lips wrapping around the head of your cock, tongue teasing at the tip.”

Kanji can't breathe. He's trying to fight the reaction, but Adachi's words are getting too far into his head, and he knows exactly what Naoto looks like when she does that and the asshole isn't wrong, it's definitely come to mind but not like this, never like this... But he feels the blood rushing and him getting harder against Adachi's hand and he hates himself, he hates the bastard doing this, he hates the fact he let himself get caught...

“Then what, Tatsumi? Would you get off on her face, or would you make her swallow it? No...I bet you'd wait. You'd make her stop just before, and then put her down on her back. Play with her tits, make her squirm under you, finger her until she's gasping out your name.” He wants to close his eyes. He doesn't want to watch Naoto's face anymore, twisting in pain and sorrow as she shakes her head _no, no, no_ and he keeps his mouth shut, and now he's the one with tears in his eyes.

“And then you'd fuck her, wouldn't you? Slide right into her, all hot and wet for you, and you can feel how tight she is around you. She's a hell of a fuck, Tatsumi.” Now Naoto covers her mouth with her one free hand, muffling the scream she's holding back. Adachi's hand quickens. “And you'd ride her, banging into her and not knowing how the hell you can hold back anymore, until she's screaming for you.”

And Adachi looks back to Naoto, and Kanji can still hear that awful grin in his voice. “Go ahead, bitch. Let him hear you.” She is horrified. She shakes her head, the first time she's denied him anything since the first day. Adachi's voice goes dark. “You do what you're told, you little slut, or I will cut off his dick and feed it to you right now.”

Naoto is shaking, her whole body in tremors, but her hand leaves her mouth and her eyes are screaming apologies and Kanji just watches her. She takes several breaths before the word can ever leave her lips, a whisper of a promise. “Kanji...”

It has the result Adachi wants, and Kanji knows it, but he can't help the surge her voice gives him, can't help the orgasm crashing into his body, can't help the wet stain across his briefs. Adachi laughs, walking to pick up the rag and wipe off his hand. “Pathetic. And here I thought you'd be a challenge.”

He turns to leave and Naoto calls out. “Adachi... You said if I behaved, you'd bring food. Please, I've done everything you asked.”

“Everything? I seem to remember you hesitating just a moment ago.” He doesn't look back at her.

Naoto's face goes pale, and Kanji finally looks away, staring at his shoes. “Please, Adachi. Please.”

There's a moment and Kanji is sure the bastard's just going to leave, but then he pulls out a bag from a satchel in a corner and tosses it in Naoto's direction. “Don't make yourself sick. I'm not cleaning up after you.”


	11. Chapter 11

_November ???_

The door closes and her hand is already in the bag, pulling everything she can out. It's not much: some fruit, some sweet breads, a bag of kaki-peanuts, and a box of granola bars. _Protein. We'll survive. But..._ She raises her eyes back up to Kanji, whose gaze is still fixed on the floor, and her chest gives a violent twist. _What was he thinking...?_ She doesn't want to, but she keeps finding her gaze drawn to his waist, the undone fly, the stain she doesn't understand why he let himself get.

“Kanji...?” He twitches, stiffening at the sound, but slowly turns his head so he can see her. His eyes look hollow, and she hates it. “Why...?”

“Told you.” His voice is too quiet, too rough. “I'd die a thousand times before I see him touch you again.”

The pain in her chest is unbearable. “Kan—no, don't you understand, can't you see it hurts me to watch him do this to you as well?” He just swallows. “I don't want him to hurt you.”

“And I ain't gonna let him hurt you anymore.” He tries to straighten up, stand on his own two feet, but she can see how much of a struggle it is for him. “If he's focusin' on me, it'll buy you some time.”

“Buy—!” Now the light dawns and she feels the bile rising in her throat. “I am _not_ leaving here without you.”

He doesn't speak, just watches her eyes, then nods to the bag. “You oughta eat somethin'. Who knows when you're gonna get another chance.”

Everything tastes like dust. It's a challenge to keep any of it down.

_How can I get any of this to him...?_


	12. Chapter 12

_November ???_

She's fairly certain it's the next morning, and Adachi is still absent. She can't sleep, and she knows that Kanji drifts, but as he fades his knees buckle and the metal of the cuffs digging into his wrists wakes him up again. Her stomach still protests its emptiness, but it's better than it had been.

She can still hear Kanji's rumbling in frustration. But she's tied down, she can't...

 _He never tied my other hand back down._ She stares at her hand, free for the first time she can remember. It's another moment before she remembers how to use it. She trembles as she works on the knots at her right wrist, certain that Adachi will walk in at any moment and find her, but right now she's willing to risk another round face down on the floor to try and get some food to her friend.

The bindings fall free and she struggles to her feet, unused to standing on her own anymore. Kanji doesn't seem to notice, as he leans against the wall behind him, eyes half closed. She grabs the first thing to come to hand, one of the granola bars, and walks over to Kanji. “Kanji...?” He doesn't stir. She sets a hand on his chest and tries again. “Kanji?”

This time he jerks upright, flinching—until he sees it's her, and his eyes widen. “What...how?”

“He never bound my hand back down. Please, before he comes back.” She tears open the wrapping and holds the granola bar to his lips.

He hesitates. “Don't you need...?”

“I've eaten some already; please, Kanji, you need to eat something.” There's another moment of hesitation, but his lips part and she acts as his hands so he can eat the bar. It's awkward and probably uncomfortable for both of them, but it gets him food and she will live with any discomfort that comes along with that. “And you call me a stubborn idiot,” she murmurs, tossing the wrapper back toward the bag.

Kanji swallows and looks down at her. “Well, you are. Just turns out so'm I.” There's a pause, and then his face reddens and he looks away, coughing. “So uh, if you're up an' stuff, can you...?” He tilts his head down for a moment, then at the wall again.

She glances—and realizes what he means. “O-oh. Yes, of course.” Luckily, she supposes, Adachi did very little to disrobe Kanji, so she hooks her fingers in his belt loops and tugs the pants back up to his waist, trying to close the fly again without coming into contact with him at all. It's awkward and at a strange angle, given their height difference, but she manages it.

He seems to relax. “Thanks.” And then the stiffness comes back. “Uh, you...you're still...”

She blinks, and it takes her a moment that her underwear hasn't been put back on since... “Oh.” _Am I that far gone, to not even notice?_ Her eyes track around the room and find the fabric, tossed to a corner and forgotten. She feels numb—she _is_ numb, who is she kidding—as she slips the fabric on. It doesn't feel right anymore. Nothing feels right anymore.

She looks around again, but can't find her pants. “I...think this is the best I can do.”

“S'fine.” The blush is still on Kanji's cheeks, but he's looking at her again as she walks back to stand in front of him. “M'sorry.”

“Please don't apologize.” She brushes her hand against his cheek, an utterly foreign gesture to her, but it seems the right thing to do and Kanji's eyes close as she touches him and she swallows hard, fighting back whatever it is that wants to jump out of her throat, burst out of her chest. “I...” She looks up at his hands but they're over his head and well and truly out of her reach. “I can't... I don't have a key.”

“S'okay, Naoto.” He's still so calm and it hurts to hear him be so calm after what just happened and she's choking on sobs all over again. “Hey—shit, don' cry.”

“It's not okay.” She coughs, covering her face with her hands and wishing her sleeves were more intact. “We're being held prisoner by a man we put behind bars and he's...he's...”

“You don't gotta say it. I know.”

“I've...done things...” Her voice gives out and her hands fall to her sides and she just looks up at him, desperate and knowing he has no answers for her except the pain he can reflect back to her. “I can't ever take that back. I can't...be the person I was before. You've seen me...” And her voice is gone again, and she can see him pull against the cuffs.

“That's...” He growls, and she knows it's not at her but it makes her skin crawl anyway. “That ain't you.”

“It was—!”

“No.” He waits, and then makes a face. “Well, okay. But think of it this way. It ain't any more of you than your Shadow is.”


	13. Chapter 13

_November ???_

He can see her face shift, trying to understand what he means. “My...Shadow?”

“S'a piece of you that you ain't proud of. That you don't wanna think of as yourself. The part you wanna hide away from everyone else. This ain't any different. This whole thing, everything he's done, that's only gonna be a piece of you as big as you let it be.”

She stares at him for a moment, lower lip trembling, and then simply steps forward and sets her forehead on his chest. He can feel his heart beat a step faster, but concentrates on keeping his breathing even. “Damn. First time I could really give ya a hug, an' my hands are cuffed to a wall.”

He hears a soft chuckle and a weight lifts from his shoulder he hadn't know was there. “Technically, I believe you're cuffed to a pipe connected to the ceiling.” He scoffs and she laughs again, and he'll tear down heaven and hell if it means she'll keep laughing. “That was very astute of you, Kanji. What you said earlier.”

“Guess I gotta get a few smart things sometimes.” He shifts his weight—damn his feet are tired, how long has he been standing—and something pushes against his hip that he doesn't remember. He looks down but Naoto's hands are still at her sides but there's something in his pocket

And he remembers. And maybe he can get them out of here after all.

“Naoto. Reach into my left pocket.”

Her head lifts abruptly, a confused expression on her face. “Kanji-kun.” It's the first time she's used an honorific since he got here, and it's a clear expression of her puzzlement. “I hardly think that's...”

“Just do it, okay? See if it's dead yet.”

“Dead—!” There's a moment where he thinks she won't, but then tentatively she slides a hand into his pocket and he is _not_ thinking about her hand on his hip—and her eyes widen and she grabs the slim object and pulls it out, looking at it like it was gold.

It may as well have been. If it still worked.

“Your phone.” Her voice is soft with awe. “Oh my god, Kanji, you have your...” She flips it open and the screen is the brightest thing he's ever seen and _oh sweet fuck_ he's never been so happy to see it in his life. There's a beat where they both seem to forget what to do, but then with shaking fingers, she takes a step away from him and presses the keys. “I...I can call...”

He can't see the number she's putting in but he trusts her to call the authorities, someone to get them out of here, he's done something right for the first time in he doesn't even know how long and soon this whole nightmare will be over.

She sets the phone to her ear—opens her mouth to speak—and the door opens.

“Hidey-ho, kiddos, I'm...” The voice stops dead and Naoto can't speak, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor, and Adachi's face is fire and rage and Kanji can feel the world slipping out of his fingers.

“ _You stupid **bitch!**_ ”


	14. Chapter 14

_November ???_

Naoto shrieks as Adachi storms in, grabs her wrist and throws her into the wall. “You _fucking stupid **bitch**_ **!** ” The heel of his shoe comes down on the phone—the light on the cracked screen flickers out and he kicks the phone away. She turns to duck away but his hand is on her throat, pushing her against the wall, lifting her up onto her tiptoes, off of her feet. “You really thought you were going to get away with calling the cops on me? There's no reception out here. We're practically in the middle of the ocean; who did you think would come?”

She's choking, sputtering and unable to speak. Her hands claw at his wrist and he ignores her.

“You and all your stupid little friends. I'm going to get all of you, you know. I should have done it back when I had the Shadows to take care of the dirty work for me, but you know what? If I'm going to be convicted of murder, I may as well be guilty of it—and it's going to be so much more rewarding watching you bleed out under my hands.”

He drops her then and she crumples to the ground, and Kanji's growling and Adachi's just ignoring him as he reaches down and pulls her across the floor, pinning her wrists to either side of her head, his knees on either side of her hips and she screams again.

“I've got plans for each of them, you know.” That grin is back, the too-wide crazy grin that makes her mind lock up in horror. “I got ideas, after seeing you all fight against the Shadows. See, the idol bitch will be the easiest to track down. Everyone knows where she is. And they might have taken my badge, but I'm still a detective. I can get past whatever flimsy security she's got, get into her room, tie her up before she even knows I'm there. It would have been perfect if it could have been later in the year... See, dying of exposure's a lot easier in the snow.”

Naoto cries out again, hoping that the phone isn't broken, hoping someone can still hear her, hoping...hoping...

“The other two girls are easy. See, Amagi likes fire, right? So I figure I can bind her up, have a little fun, and then watch her go up in flames. I bet that long hair will burn up really nice.” Kanji's saying something, but Naoto can't hear the words and Adachi is still ignoring him. “Satonaka will probably be watching, since those two are joined at the fucking hip. But no, she's not going to burn with her friend. She's got that tough exterior, all jump into battle first and ask questions later, I'm gonna be a cop to _protect people_ vibe going on...so I'll show her what it's like to be a cop. I'll make her chase me—and I know she'll come after me like the stupid bitch she is—and I'll lead her all over the place until she finds some tiny abandoned shack like this one, and she'll look inside, all brass and balls, trying to taunt me to come out. And I'll shoot out her knee. That'll keep her still. She's not really my type, but one fuck's as good as another when she's screaming, and when I'm done I'll put my gun between her eyes and I'll pull the trigger.”

Naoto tries to pull away, fights against his hands, and for an instant she thinks she's making progress—one of her hands is free and she beats against his leg—and then the thunderbolt of pain streaks through her brain as she feels his fist connect with her face and her nose breaks. Her hand slams into the floor again, and his lips are at her ear, and it's the first time he caught her all over again. “You try that shit again and I don't pull my punch, pretty little prince.”

Kanji's voice is so far away, and Adachi's grip is tighter on her wrists and she whimpers in pain, her face is throbbing and she still feels a dull pain deep in her pelvis from the other day—how many lifetimes ago was that?—and Adachi is right in her face, screaming at her to look at him, and she's afraid to open her eyes but she does and he keeps his face inches from hers as he keeps talking.

“The Shadow-bear friend goes back into the TV with a slit throat. I don't have time to waste on useless things like him. Next is Hanamura. I had trouble with him. See, he's not like Amagi, who I can light on fire. He fights with wind, and wind isn't as easy to kill someone with. But the rest of him is so damn insignificant, there's nothing else I can work on! But you know what I thought of?” He's laughing again, she can't bear to hear him laughing, why won't he stop... “I can use his weapons. Those two daggers...man, I could have so much fun with that. So many options. But it'll end with one down his throat and one in his chest.

“And then there's your precious ringleader. Dojima's golden boy. And I have a very special end for him. He's _special_. He's got _all_ the fucking Personas, doesn't he? A thousand different faces to show the world because he doesn't know who the hell he really is underneath it all. So I'm going to take my knife, and I'm going to slice him up into a million little pieces to match how he feels inside.”

Now Naoto is sobbing all over again, she's surprised she still has tears to shed and Adachi is _still laughing_ but then he stops and his hands let her arms go and she's too surprised for a moment to move and his hand is in his pocket. “But I think what I'm going to do first is take care of you.” Naoto shrieks and she sees the knife come out of his pocket but there's a dull _thunk_ as something hits something else and there's no pain and everything is silent for a moment and she opens her eyes

and Adachi climbs off of her and retrieves the knife from the wall right next to Kanji's ear and her whole body goes cold. _“No!”_ She tries to get to her feet, tries to hit him, tries to pull him away, but he spins around and clocks her in the side of the face again and she's down for the count again, too dizzy to move but unable to tear her eyes away from Kanji as Adachi advances on him.

“What do you say, Tatsumi? Which would you pick? Letting her watch you die, and hoping that a miracle comes before I kill her? Or would you rather watch her die?”


	15. Chapter 15

_November ???_

Kanji's eyes are narrowed, staring at Adachi, because they both know what the answer is, and by the whimpers from the floor Naoto knows what he's going to say, because if there is any chance she makes it out alive, it'll be worth his life.

“Leave her alone,” is the response, Kanji's voice gravel in his throat. Naoto screams. Kanji's heart breaks.

Adachi _smiles_. “Sure thing.” The blade flicks open—Kanji never saw it close in the first place—and presses against his throat. He can feel his heart pounding, feel the blood rushing past where the blade is pressed, but something else has washed over him and everything seems so much quieter. He feels... _calm_. This nightmare is almost over, and if he's lucky, it ends with Naoto escaping this bastard and living on.

It will be worth it. No matter how much pain Adachi puts him through, this will be worth it.

“Any last words for your girlfriend?” Damn, but he's smug. He can hear Naoto sob out a _no, Kanji, **don't**_ , and he's just cold—numb—calm.

“Nothin' I'm sayin' in front of you. She knows everything I'd say.” She keeps crying. His eyes are dry. He almost wishes he could cry, for her sake.

“Your funeral.” He moves the knife, slowly cutting a slice into a bicep. Kanji grits his teeth, trying to keep himself from tensing or making a sound or anything that would give Adachi any kind of joy out of this. He can smell the blood as it runs down, soaks into his sleeve, drips onto the floor. The convict digs the tip of the knife into the wound, and now Kanji can't help the grunt that hitches too high for his liking. He laughs and moves to the other arm.

Kanji focuses on the pain. Tries to ignore Naoto's cries, ignores Adachi's laughter, ignores everything except the slices of pain crossing his body. His shirt is in pieces. Blood is on everything. He thinks one of his arms came free of the cuffs but he really can't quite tell anymore. How much time has passed? Are both of his arms free? He can't hear Naoto anymore. He hopes she's okay.

…

…

...is that a car?

“Shit.” Adachi's voice is uncertain now. Kanji's eyes feel weighted but he drags them open, watching Adachi step to the side toward a window, and then repeat the expletive, louder this time. He hovers over Naoto, who is curled on the floor. “This is _your fucking fault_ , bitch. I want you to know that.”

Adachi turns. Naoto shrieks. The knife comes swinging toward him.

His side erupts in pain.

The world goes black.


	16. Chapter 16

_November ???_

Adachi's looking for a way out, she knows he must be, but she can't take her eyes off of Kanji, now crumpled on the floor with blood covering his torso. She needs to get to him. She needs to help. She needs to...

“Adachi?” the bark comes from outside. She knows the voice. She can't remember why. “I know you're in there, you son of a bitch. Come out and no one gets hurt.”

“Fuck off, Dojima,” Adachi shoots back. “It's too late for that.” He takes off running, headed for the back of the building and she hears the footsteps outside follow

and somehow she drags herself over to Kanji's side. He's not moving. _He's not moving_. “Kanji?” She shakes his shoulder, ignoring the blood that stays on her hand. “ _Kanji?_ ” The silence is painful. _I need to stop the bleeding._ She sets her hands against the wound, but blood just pushes through her fingers and she gags. _There's nothing here._ On the far side of the room, she sees something dark. “Please stay, please wait, please be okay,” she urges as she stands and tries to run over and grabs at it—it's fabric, she doesn't care what it is—and runs back, falling to her knees and pressing it against his side.

_I can't tell if he's breathing, please be breathing, oh no Kanji please be okay, you said we'd make it out don't you dare die on me now_

She hears a gunshot in the distance. Her hands are so red, she can't stop crying, she just leans against him and sobs, trying to keep as much pressure as she can on his side.

…

She doesn't know how long it's been until there's a hand on her shoulder and she flinches—the hand moves and that familiar voice is back.

“It's okay, Shirogane. It's okay. You have to move.”

“He's...I can't, he's...the blood...” Is Kanji always this pale? She still can't see if he's breathing.

“There's an ambulance here. The EMTs are right behind me, but they need to get to him right now. Okay? Can you stand up? Are you hurt?” Now there's a hand on either shoulder and she lets herself be pulled away and men and women in white surround Kanji and she feels like there's a vice on her chest.

“Is he alive?”

“Thanks to you, yes. And if we're fast, he'll stay that way. Did Adachi hurt you?”

Her whole body shudders at the name and she curls in on herself, her knees buckling again and the man next to her follows her to the floor, easing the fall. “I...He...” She's shaking too hard to speak.

“Okay. Okay. Hang in there, Sh—” The man sighs and after a moment, puts an arm around her and pulls her into an awkward half hug, leaning against a dark shirt and a tie the color of blood and all she smells is coffee and cigarettes and it's all so familiar. “Hang in there, Naoto.”

She cries into his shoulder until she can't cry anymore.


	17. Chapter 17

_November 10, Saturday – Inaba Municipal Hospital_

It's been three days since they'd been found. She's been in and out of consciousness, dosed with painkillers and sedatives, and she doesn't know what's happened to her or to Kanji because no one will tell her anything. But today she finally feels awake, and the doctors say she can see the visitor she has.

She's not surprised when Ryotaro Dojima walks in. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and she wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't. By a stroke of luck, he had been the one to answer the phone when she called the station—and had jumped into action the second he heard Adachi's voice. Her prayer had been answered; the phone had broken but not disconnected. He'd heard enough to figure out where he was, and came blasting up at full-tilt to Shichiri Beach to get them. That much she had been told when she woke up. Probably, she figures, because they knew Dojima was coming, and he wouldn't want to tell the story all over again.

“Hey, Shirogane.” His voice confirms her suspicions about his sleep. He sounds awful.

“Good...” She glances at the clock on the wall. “...afternoon, Dojima-san.”

“How, uh...” He rubs at the back of his head. “Damn, this is awkward. Sorry.”

“I'm not fully sure I can feel awkward about anything at this point.” Her body feels heavy, weary without being sleepy. “Please, sit. You look exhausted.”

“It's been a rough couple of days. Not all the time I have to chase down a convicted felon who's also my former partner, save two of my nephew's closest friends from potential death, and then deal with the onslaught of panic from most of the student body of Yasogami High.”

 _Oh._ “I suppose this would have caused some stir.”

Dojima eyes her. “You're awfully calm.”

“I'm tired, Dojima-san.” She closes her eyes, rubbing at them. “The past...what, ten days, have been some of the most trying of my life. And that is saying something.” Visions of spinning blades, yellow eyes, and white lab coats flicker through her mind. “What all has happened since our arrival?”

“Well, at least in your case, I guess there wasn't a lot of physical damage. They, uh...” Dojima's ears burn red and he looks away. “They did some reconstruction. On what got...torn.” When she didn't respond, Dojima cleared his throat. “Went well, though. Full recovery, just going to have to be careful for a while after. They also gave you some meds that should ensure you don't...”

This time, Dojima's voice doesn't return, so Naoto offers the rest. “So I don't get pregnant.”

“...yeah.” Dojima's voice is rough, and he coughs again. “And your nose got set, and I guess that's healing nicely.” Another pause. “They're going to want you to go to therapy.”

“I understand that, and I won't argue.” It's standard protocol. She is a detective and she has been through a...difficult situation. _Speaking of..._ “And Kanji?” Her voice wavers.

Dojima's face gives nothing away. “He's...recovering.”

“That's not reassuring, Dojima-san.”

Dojima's lips purse. “With as many lacerations he had and how deep some of them were, it's a miracle he survived at all. Adachi also managed to miss most of the major organs when he stabbed the kid; Tatsumi was lucky the knife was as short as it was. He's got a lot of muscle damage, and he's going to be in physical therapy for a while. Most of the cuts have stitches, and it's going to be hell recovering for a while. Who knows when he'll be able to go home or get back to school.”

She feels a weight lift, so strong that she almost feels dizzy. “But he survived. He's alive, and he'll recover.”

“Should, yeah. Thanks to you sacrificing your pants to stop the bleeding.”

 _My...oh._ So that's where they'd gone. “That's...reassuring.” She takes a deep breath, wincing. She may not be cut up like Kanji was, but she is sore. “Can I see him?”

“I'm not sure you can leave your room yet.”

“I want to see him.”

“Shirogane.”

“I want...to see him.” She swallows, meeting his eye. “I need to.”

Dojima keeps her gaze, but gives sooner than she expected, standing. “I'll go ask. Don't...move until I get back.” He leaves and she focuses on her breathing. She's sore, and she can feel the effects of the 'reconstruction' Dojima had mentioned, but she's intact. And she won't be carrying around any remnants of...him...around. All reassuring things. But there's a worry knotting up her stomach that she knows won't go anywhere until she can see Kanji again.

It's an odd feeling. Kanji is a friend, one of the few people she could consider a close friend, after the incidents from last year. But beyond that, they had remained distant. Kanji had never seemed entirely comfortable around her, not from the moment he met her on, and she... She had never known what to make of the young man. At first, like most of the rest of the team, he came across as unstable, idiotic, and impulsive. Then when they'd found her in the TV...Kanji had fought harder against her Shadow than anyone else. There was a kindred soul in him—neither of them knew quite who they were inside. She desperately wished to fit in with a sex she wasn't...he fought to be considered a valid member of the sex he was. They both pushed people away, trying to keep themselves or others from being hurt. They struggled to connect with people; she hid behind a cool facade, him behind a hot-headed temper.

But afterward, they had drifted apart again. Her to her studies, him to...not being around her. They fought together in the final battles, struggled together in the fight (the _Shadow_ fight) against Adachi, walked home together from the train station together for a time after Narukami had left. It had taken a while, but she'd begun to feel his absence. Yes, they spoke and had occasionally eaten lunch on the roof together (occasionally with the rest of the former investigation team), but they lacked the cohesiveness that had existed before.

He had been...protective. Not in an over-bearing way, not in a way that indicated he believed her incapable of protecting herself. Simply...a strong presence backing up her own threat. He'd been a constant, a staple of day to day life. And then he'd been gone, unreachable, and she didn't have the social know-how to reach him.

But she knew that she didn't want anyone else to find her there. She knew he would be the first to jump.

_Oh, Kanji..._

Now of course, she knows. After what had happened, the halted sentences, the look in his eyes, his reactions... She knows why he's been distant. Knows why he didn't talk to her. Knows why he'd been so uncomfortable around her at the start...and the shift after her Shadow.

She knows. And she needs to see him. Because now she knows the name for the pain in her chest, and they swore that they were words for when they were out.

Dojima walks back in, two nurses flanking him. “You can go, but you'll need an escort. You can't sit down yet, so they can't give you a wheelchair.” He holds out a pair of crutches. “Think you can walk?”

“I will.”


	18. Chapter 18

_November 10, Saturday – Inaba Municipal Hospital, Intensive Care_

His side is burning again, and one hand flinches to press the medication button the nurses had given him. He's covered in bandages, barely able to move. He doesn't have much interest in moving. Everything hurts.

 _I hope she's okay._ He can't remember anything after Adachi stabbed him. _If she's not..._ He doesn't want to think about that.

“Kanji-kun?” It's the nurse. He moves a finger and presses the button to incline his bed so he can see her without bending his waist. Since...well, he tried. And he can't, not without massive amounts of pain. “You have a visitor. Are you feeling well enough to see them?”

“Sure,” he croaks out, frowning at his voice. She ducks outside again, and a very familiar blue-haired girl on crutches hobbles into the room. He tries to sit up on instinct and immediately remembers that's a terrible idea. “Naoto.”

She's intensely focused on her steps—they can't be easy on her either—so Kanji looks at the doorway, where three nurses and Dojima are standing. The man catches Kanji's eye and just gives him a nod, which Kanji does his best to return. “We'll be out here, Naoto,” the man says. “Give you two a minute. Remember, you can't sit.”

“I remember.” Her voice is stronger, and he feels so much better just to hear that. The door shuts and Naoto finds her way to his bedside, and then—then—she looks at him and her eyes are full of something, and he doesn't care what it is because it means she's not so hollow anymore and that is the best thing he could have hoped for out of this. “Kanji.” Her voice is a whisper, his name a prayer, and he shivers.

“M'okay.” He tries to reach a hand to her cheek, but his arm doesn't want to bend that far, and she reaches down to his hand instead, twining her fingers with his. His breath catches in his throat. “I...”

“I owe you my life.” Her voice is still a whisper, and he can hear the edge of tears in it, and he doesn't want her to cry, not anymore. “If you hadn't come...”

“You'da found a way out.” He squeezes her fingers and she manages a faint smile. “I know you woulda.”

“I wasn't fighting anymore, Kanji.” She raises her free hand to her eyes, wiping back tears. “I'd given up. No one knew where I was. No one had any clues, as far as I knew. But...I was praying. Praying that you'd come.”

He can't answer for a moment. “M-me?”

“You were the one to pull me away from my Shadow. The one who led me out of the fight against...Ameno-Sagiri.” It's an easier name to say, and they both know who she means. “You've always been there. And I just hoped...that you'd think it was strange that I hadn't come to school, and you'd look.”

“I did.” His breath is still shallow. “No one else thought it was weird but I couldn't give up. I needed t'know. An' then...he did send me a clue. An' I came to the beach without a question. I...I had to.”

She nods, watching their hands twined together on the bed. “You...” She swallows. “You were going to tell me something, back when you found me, and I told you to wait until we were out.” Her eyes flicker up to him. “Will you tell me now?”

Kanji goes entirely still, but there's still something so... _safe_ in her eyes that the words come out without thinking. “Nothing that happened, not from the day I met ya 'til now, an' goin' on, is ever gonna change what I see in ya. I don' feel any different now than I did then. Jus'...more.” He looks at their hands, and then makes himself look back into her eyes—the eyes that caught him off-guard when he met her, and the eyes that still catch him now. “I like...no. I love you.”

Her hand is shaking in his, and he watches her start at least three sentences and never manage to finish any of them. When she finally speaks, her voice is laced with tears, but for once he's not pained to hear them. “You're going to owe me a world of hugs when you're not tied up or bandaged, Kanji Tatsumi.”

“Deal. As many as ya want.” He manages a smile and she finds one for him as well.

She takes her hand back, but shifts so that she's closer to his head, tracing her fingers over his hair, tucking it back away from his eyes. “I...” She swallows. “I've never been in love before. But if this...” She sets her other hand to her chest. “If this isn't love, I don't know what else to call it. I don't...have enough empirical data to categorize it.”

Kanji coughs out a laugh, wincing a fraction. “Looks like you're just gonna have t'get more data then.”

“Indeed. A full-scale investigation.” And moving one hand to hold the edge of his bed, she leans in and brushes her lips against his. His breath catches—he can feel hers falter—and he raises up the tiny amount he can to catch her lips again and this time they linger, more confident, not looking for anything...not pushing...just sharing an embrace.

When she pulls back again, he feels her rest her forehead against his, her lips still close enough to his that he can feel her smile. “I think I'll enjoy this particular line of investigation.”

“Anything for you.” His cheeks feel warm, but there's no shame in his words.

“Then heal, my Kanji, and come back to me.” She presses a kiss to his lips and he feels like all the time spent worried and awkward and concerned are absolutely nothing because this is now and this is the future and if she asks it of him, he will do it.

“As you wish.”


End file.
